


Payment

by GoodJanet



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Drinking, F/M, Kissing, Mildly Dubious Consent, Office Sex, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:33:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3699299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodJanet/pseuds/GoodJanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roger wants Peggy to do his work for him. Peggy doesn't work for free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Payment

It’s late. Everyone else has gone home, and Peggy is pretty sure she’s the last one in the office. She could go home to her apartment. Her noisy, hot, rundown apartment in the city all by herself at twelve o’clock. Or she could stay here. It’s peacefully quiet, to the point where she can just barely hear the lights in her office buzzing. There are no people shouting or cars honking. Just the sound of her typewriter as she slowly but surely starts in on tomorrow’s work. All is calm until she is startled by a knock.

“Who is it?” she asks suspiciously.

“It’s me,” Roger says slurring a little.

Peggy rolls her eyes. So much for peace and quiet…

“Come in.”

He opens the door and walks in with a full accordion file and a glass of something amber. Whiskey?

“Why are you still here?” she asks.

Roger takes a swig.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Touché.

“Well, what do you want?”

Roger smirks.

“I was hoping you’d ask.”

He hands her the file. It’s full of tags and coupons and receipts and a few mini-ads with a big red “X” through them. There’s also legal pad paper with cross outs and arrows and underlinings. She raises an eyebrow.

“What do you want me to do with this?”

“I need you to fix this. I was supposed to do it, but then Chough decided to be a big shot and show the partners a good time, and well, here we are.”

He takes another drink.

“Why can’t you do it? Haven’t you mastered working while drunk by now?” 

Roger puts on a mockingly stern face.

“Is that any way to talk to your father?”

Peggy lets out a noise of disgust. It would honestly be easier to do the ad rather than argue with Roger while he’s like this. He thinks he’s so cute and charming. That might’ve been true ten or twenty years ago, but certainly not today.

“What’s in it for me?”

She folds her arms. She’s going to do it, but not for free. And if he was out tonight, she doubts he’s got a wad of cash like last time. She’s not in a joking mood this time either. Asking for a night of tranquility would probably be asking for too much.

“Jesus, can’t you just be a pal? I’ll owe you one.”

“You need my help on short notice to hide a mistake you made because alcohol was more important to you. If you want me to do this and do it well, you need to give me something.”

The forlorn look on Roger’s face is almost endearing. Almost. He roots around his pockets for his wallet, to open it and find only a $20 inside.

“Jesus…You know I don’t have anything. I was just happy there was a light on. Hell, I would’ve asked Benson to write this all out if he’d been the one in here.”

That’s how he does it. He whines and pouts so sweetly with all his girls, whether they work for him or not. She can see why it would work. And she can see how she can get it to work for her.

“Alright, so you don’t have money with you. What can you give me?”

She’s going to make him come to the conclusion on his own. No spoon-feeding. He needs to be a big boy and figure it out on his own. She can almost see the cogs whirring in his inebriated mind.

“I don’t know. I don’t...”

Peggy sits on the edge of her desk and spreads her legs slightly, giving Roger a good view up her skirt.

“…know. Wow.”

Peggy smiles. Proud of herself. It was high time someone made Roger fight for something. It also helps that he has a reputation for being quiet good at this sort of thing.

Roger stops his sentence short and makes his the few extra feet inside until he’s standing in front of Peggy. He deposits his drink on the desk and puts his hands on her hips and draws them close together, and she’s suddenly finding it very hard to breathe. He leans in to kiss her, reeking of booze, but she doesn’t really mind much when he’s kissing her so deeply and forcefully.

He pulls back, and she tries not to show that she’s panting. She’s supposed to be the one in control, after all.

Roger’s hands begin to wander away from her waist and up her skirt. He carefully undoes her garters and pulls her panties down her legs with surprising gentleness. She had fully been expecting him to tear her hose or toss her panties and ravish her. This was different. Peggy had not accounted for this, and now she feels in over her head. Like she’s floating, tethered only by Roger’s sure hands.

“I didn’t think—”

Roger covers her mouth with his hand.

“Shhh, don’t think,” he murmurs.

He pulls his hand away and gently lowers her back down onto the desk. She’s mesmerized by him. The way he can go from drunken stumbling to cool and suave is startlingly. Roger then takes the time to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants. Peggy reaches her hands out to help, but her efforts are stopped.

“Let me repay you, sweetheart.”

The pet name would normally bother her, but in this context, in this moment, it serves only to give her a full body shiver. Peggy imagines he says something like that to all his girls, but to hear it firsthand…

By the time she’s come to accept and even look forward to this insane idea of hers, Roger’s dropped his pants to the floor and moves in even closer to enter her. He looks big, she notices, impressed he was able to get hard after drinking so much. Perhaps his body had simply gotten used to it.

“This is what you want?” he asks.

Not initially, no. Her plan to embarrass him and take the power back had crumbled in her hands rather quickly. Deep down she knows this is terrible, awful, stupid idea, but there is a part of her that wants to see this through. She wants to know what happens to girls who fuck Roger Sterling.

She grabs the glass Roger left sitting next to her and downs it with a grimace and hiccup.

“Yes,” she answers.

Roger smiles sadly and shakes his head. She’s sure he knows this is a bad idea too. But they’re both too proud to back down, and so here they are.

He enters her smoothly, and she lets out a high-pitched whine when he finally bottoms out. Roger’s already panting harshly.

“Jesus,” Roger gasps. 

Peggy can’t manage to think, so she just nods her head, hoping he’ll start moving if she nods her head enough times.

It’s weird. It’s so weird. They aren’t supposed to be doing this. She isn’t supposed to be gripping the sides of her desk with white knuckles, and he isn’t supposed to be bracing himself on a hand by her head and a hand on her still-clothed hip. She had been so stupid.

Roger thrusts some more, and Peggy decides she’ll throw herself a pity party later.

“I gotta ask,” Roger grunts. “You ever do this for Draper? Is that what this is about?”

Peggy’s not sure if she feels more like laughing or crying. Is that why they’re doing this? Is that was she was subconsciously seeking?

She reaches her hands up to cup his face and bring him down for a deep kiss.

“I don’t know,” she breathes, shaking her head. “I don’t know.”

They share a look, and she can tell he feels bad for her. She both hates and appreciates the sentiment.

“You deserve better, kid. You know _that_ , don’t you?”

She wants to believe him, so she assures him that yes, she does know. But knowing and doing are two very different concepts, so she decides to wrap her legs around Roger’s waist as he pounds into her.

“God, I’m not gonna last. I can’t,” he pleads.

Peggy knows she can’t either, so she brings her hand down between her legs and races to catch up with him.

They don’t come together, but it’s pretty close and still feels really good. Roger holds her close for longer than he strictly needs to, but she doesn’t really mind until she starts feeling hot and sweaty and wet between her thighs. Roger offers her a handkerchief, which she gratefully takes.

They are quiet while redressing and readjusting. Peggy wracks her brain, trying to think of something, anything, to say.

“I’ll—I’ll have the file on your desk in the morning,” she manages.

Roger nods, looking lost in his own thoughts and troubles.

“Thanks, Peggy.”

Peggy.

She likes that he said that. Pet names should be for people who were regularly intimate. Not for people who did whatever _this_ was.

“You’re welcome, Roger.”

He gives her a wink before stumbling back out her office door, closing it with a click.

When Roger shows up for work the next morning, he finds not only a beautifully finished report, but also a soiled handkerchief artfully folded inside a brandy glass.


End file.
